Macabre Nation
by ProjectXii1
Summary: Hiding inside a small farmhouse, two teens and their guardian recount their flight from the city, after the Dead rose to feast on the living.
1. Part 1

This is an experimental story that may become part of a chain of stories in the future. If it works out, essentially this will be the first tale in what I will be calling "The Dream Project".

These stories are in fact written from my own dreams. Sometimes I watch an awful lot of movies in one hit (say, four to five in one day), and this results in very detailed dreams that are not only more vivid, but actually play out like movies themselves. This includes flashbacks, cutting to different locations, plot lines and character development! Strange, I know, and I normally wake up completely exhausted.

This first story was dreamt after a large Zombie Movie Marathon (including Saw, Shaun, and Land of the Dead and 28 Days Later). It was so interesting that upon awakening, I forced myself to remember everything about it.

The story is presented in the same way it was dreamed, including the flashbacks. The only thing embellished on dialogue because A: it's impossible to remember the exact dream dialogue, and B: the story needs to make sense.

For those reasons, certain scenes may seem a bit... strange. Hopefully this will serve to make the story unique, or at least that's my hope.

**Macabre Nation**

The door opened with a crash as the lock finally gave under Steve's weight. We quickly stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind us, breathing heavily.

"Did they see us?" Lucy gasped.

"I don't think so," I replied, peering out a window and seeing nothing moving among the half-grown corn stalks. "They'd be after us by now if they had."

We let out a sigh of relief and looked around the room we'd just entered. It was a kitchen, though it looked a little worse for wear. Plates of maggot eaten food sat on the table, while rock-hard bread crawling with small black insects lay on the countertop. Lucy ran to the fridge and peeked in hopefully. An unbearable stench immediately invaded our noses, and she slammed it shut again.

"Ew... I guss we won'd be haffing lungch today," Lucy said sadly, her voice distorted from holding her nose.

"Guess so," Steve grimaced. "Let's check out the rest of the rooms. We don't want to be caught off guard."

He moved towards a nearby door, and motioned for us to get behind him. We did so obediently; we knew the drill by now. The bloodied aluminium bat quivered tentatively in Steve's hands. My slightly-bent iron bar was doing much the same.

"If there's more than one, you two get the hell out of here," Steve whispered. Lucy and I nodded, though in our hearts we knew we wouldn't run. We wouldn't have made it that far without his help; there was no way we were going abandon him now.

Steve gripped the door handle and slowly twisted it, trying to make as little noise as possible. Carefully, ever so gently, he opened the door a crack. Just enough to peer inside. He gazed into the room for a good thirty seconds; watching, listening. Finally he let out a whoosh of tension held air, and nodded towards us.

"Nothing," he said, opening the door wide. "Not even signs of a struggle. The place must be empty."

Lucy and I relaxed. Thank god, I really hadn't been in the mood for a fight. We followed Steve through the doorway into what seemed be a lounge room. An ancient TV sat against one wall, an even older couch against the other. There was a dusty, spider web covered bookcase and a bulbless lamp as well. It was what I'd expect from a farmhouse, really.

"Alright! Couch!" Lucy cried.

She ran and jumped on it, expecting the cushions to launch her back up. Instead, the entire thing collapsed in a cloud of dust, all four legs snapping at once.

"Aw. Damn," Lucy coughed, rubbing the grit from her eyes. I gave her an irritated scowl.

"Damn, Sis, can't you stay quiet for awhile? You make enough noise to wake the..." I stopped. That's not a phrase I could use anymore.

"Give her a break," Steve said softly, opening another door carefully and peering inside. "She's just trying to find some fun in the situation. Lord knows we need too."

With the next room thoroughly checked, Steve seemed more content. He went over to the TV and flicked on the power switch. It crackled to life, the tube remaining black for a good ten seconds before warming up enough to show a picture.

"Anything?" I asked, only a mild tinge of hope in my voice.

"Same as always," Steve answered. He switched from channel to channel, but each one bore the same message. 'Out of Service'. He turned it off, admitting defeat.

I walked to the window and stared out. At last, somewhere to rest. We'd been running for three days now, and barely had any sleep. And although I didn't feel any safer in a tiny farmhouse then I did in the other homes we'd sort refuge in, at least we had a good view.

"Houses on stilts. God love 'em," Steve said, appearing beside me.

"Yeah..." I agreed. From here we could see the whole farm. Acres of corn lay just outside, not ten feet from the farmhouse stairs. It would have made a beautiful picture if I wasn't so worried about what those tall stalks might hide. In the middle of the field sat an abandoned tractor, its door swinging lazily in the breeze. It looked like whoever had been using it must have left in a hurry.

"Wouldn't make the best getaway vehicle, but at least we know its there," Steve nodded.

Far beyond the field was the mountain we were originally headed for. There was a military base on its peak, or so the repeating voice on the radio told us.

"_This is Mount Blancmore Military Base. We are heavily fortified and have enough food rations to support a small community. All survivors; if you can make it here, do so! If you have any weapons or engineering skills, make this known immediately. Do not come if you have sustained any kind of mouth to flesh injury. I repeat: do __**not **__attempt to find us if you have been bitten. You will be shot on sight. This is Mount Blancmore Military Base. We are heavily fortified ..."_

It was as promising a haven as any. We had resolved to get there, no matter what. Until yesterday we could even see the giant radio tower, glinting above the trees. But sometime during last night the clouds had come in and the mountain's peak had completely disappeared from view. We couldn't find the repeating voice again on any frequency. Our distant hope faded into a sense of foreboding, but we continued on anyway. We didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Think they're still alive up there?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. I was right to do so. Steve just continued to stare, his mouth drawn into a thin lipped frown.

None of that mattered, of course, if we couldn't actually make it to the mountain. Just past the field lay the reason we'd fled to the farmhouse in the first place. A massive, three hundred meter long ditch had been gouged into the ground, part of it running through a fence and into the cornfield. At its end, in one twisted, mangled heap, lay the remains of a 747 Boeing passenger jet. The plane had been completely ripped in two; everything from the midsection down had torn away, probably smashed up in a suburb some miles back. When we found it there'd been bodies strewn everywhere. Only a few were up and wandering about. We didn't know if they were survivors or something else, but we didn't want to take the chance. I squinted, searching the wreckage now for any signs of them coming this way. Nothing. Not yet.

I sighed and went over to the collapsed couch, sitting down heavily. Lucy watched me as I put the iron pipe down beside us and tried to get comfortable. Poor girl. She was putting on a brave face, but I could tell she was nearing the end of her tether. There were dark rings under her eyes, and every inch of her hair was knotted or tangled. For someone who used to spend so much time in front of the mirror, I knew it must have been driving her nuts.

"You look tired," I smiled, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Take a rest. Me and Steve can keep watch."

"Yeah... man, I really need a bath," she laughed, even though her eyes were watering. She curled up on the couch beside me, sniffing softly. "I haven't had a decent wash since before..." her voice trailed off.

I closed my eyes, thinking back to the warm showers and wonderful breakfast we'd had the morning before everything went wrong. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter. You don't realise how much you take for granted until it's torn from your reach.

"Yeah. I still blame those damn news reports. They should have warned us earlier. Told us to get out while we had the chance, instead of urging us to 'continue our everyday activities as normal '."

"I don't think they really believed what was happening," Steve answered me from his spot by the window. "I know I didn't. We have nothing to blame but whatever virus or animal or mad scientist caused this to happen. We'll probably never know though. We won't live long enough."

I sighed. Steve was right. Even if we did find out what started it all, there'd be no way to use that information. It was too late, too widespread. And soon there'd be no one left to care.

"It happened too fast," Lucy said sleepily. "Everything's been moving since we left the school. I haven't had time to feel sad about... about our friends, or having to leave home. I've just felt... scared and numb."

"I know that feeling," I agreed. "This is the first time we've been able to slow down. I'm exhausted."

Steve looked over at us and smiled. I could swear the lines in his face looked deeper. He'd been thirty seven when we met him, two nights ago. Now, he looked forty five.

"Take a break, kids," he said. "I'll stand guard. It's the least I can do; you saved me after all."

"Thanks," we said simultaneously. Lucy curled up tighter on the couch, and I allowed myself to relax also. It had been a long, long three days.

_3 Days Earlier - Morning_

"Your breakfasts never taste as good as Mums," Lucy whined. I finished washing my plate and turned to glare at her.

"I don't see you doing any cooking. Make your own food if you think you can do better."

"I said Mum does, not me," she grumbled quietly.

I walked over to the TV and turned the volume up. My favourite morning cartoons hadn't been on today; instead there'd been a "Breaking News" report that seemed to have invaded every channel. I'd turned the sound down, uninterested. Now I was beginning to wonder what could be so important that the same report had been running for almost an hour now.

_"... like to assure people that there is no cause for alarm,"_ the fidgety news reader said as the volume reached audible pitch. _"The incidents have still only been reported in isolated area's, and authorities have firmly stated that everything is under control. People are urged to continue their everyday activities as normal; please attend your work and school routines as always."_

"C'mon, bro, we're going to be late if you don't get a move on."

"Shut up," I hissed, waving her away. I was suddenly very interested in what the TV had to say. It sounded pretty serious.

_"On a further note, it is highly recommended that people avoid contact with anyone that appears 'sick'. Symptoms include pale skin, coughing, increased aggressiveness or inability to speak. Anyone who has come in contact with assailants bearing these afflictions should go to hospital __immediately_. _Bite victims must be treated with absolute caution, and we urge you to quarantine them in a securely locked room, be they friends or family. Contact this number immediately, and authorities will visit your home as soon as a unit is available."_

A big, flashing phone number appeared on the screen. I wondered if I should write it down, but decided I couldn't be bothered.

"Hurry UP! The bus is already coming down the street!" Lucy cried, jumping up and down in front of the window.

"Ok, Jesus!"

I grabbed my school bag and reached for the TV's off switch.

_"If attacked, assailants can be stopped through one course of action: by removing the head, or destroying the brain. Once again: by removing the head, or destroying the -" _-CLICK-

"Damn... Lucy, I really don't like the sound of this. Maybe we shouldn't go to school?"

"Why?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "The TV said we should."

"I know, but... this really sounds serious. I want to call Mum and Dad."

"In France? Are you nuts!? It'll cost a fortune! They told us to only do that if it was an absolute emergency."

"This could be one..."

I stared at the black TV screen for a few more seconds, then turned to look at Lucy.

"I really think we should -"

-BANG-

A dark shadow suddenly threw itself at the window; hands slapping at the glass manically. Lucy screamed and ducked behind the kitchen counter. I searched for objects that could be used as a weapon, but found none.

"Where the hell are you guys?" a familiar voice shouted. I looked up and studied the shadow at the window, squinting in the morning backlight.

"Mary-Sue! Oh thank god," I breathed. It was only Lucy's best friend.

"Course it's me, needledick! The bus has been outside your gate forever! Hurry the hell up!"

"Yeah, great to see you too," I grumbled. Even though Mary-Sue visited our house all the time and we rode the same bus, we'd never really got along that well. She was Lucy's friend, not mine, and they seemed determined to be typical teenage girls every second they were around me. I'd left age fifteen three years ago now.

"Coming!" Lucy jumped up from behind the counter and headed towards the font door. She was over her fright faster then it had happened. I followed her out the door and we ran down the concrete path to the bus waiting at its bottom. Mary-Sue was already at the gate, ushering us through.

"Damn, you guys are so slow!"

I squinted and shook my head. Her 'cool black chick' routine really bothered me sometimes. I glanced up the street, over the rows of picket fences and perfectly manicured lawns. Then stopped. Something was wrong here.

"Hey, Lucy," I yelled. "Did the Lawson's mention anything to you about moving home?"

Lucy stopped and looked up the street too. Our neighbours had their car in the driveway, and were busy loading it up with as much of their house as they could. And it wasn't just them; their neighbours were packing too. And their neighbour's neighbours also.

"Wow. What's going on?" Lucy said, looking the other way up the street and seeing a similar sight.

"I dunno. But it's not good."

Lucy shrugged, then locked arms with her friend and ran up the bus steps. I hefted my backpack and continued towards the bus also, only less eagerly then before.

-

"Nobody's going into the city," I stated, my face pressed firmly against the glass.

"Huh?" Mary-Sue asked, looking irritated.

"Look. All the cars are on the other side of the road. Going out. We're the only ones going in."

Other kids on the bus heard me and began to drift towards the window seats. I stared at the seemingly endless line of bumper to bumper vehicles opposite us. Horns blasted, fingers were waved. Everyone in their cars looked stressed and fearful.

"What's going on?" I heard kids murmuring around me.

"We really are the only ones going in. Do you think it's fire or a bomb or something?

"Didn't you watch the news this morning? Weird things are happening. People have been getting sick on the other side of town, and there's been riots and stuff. Really violent."

"I wish my Mum hadn't made me go to school today..."

I peeled myself off the window and sat down heavily on the seat. The sense of dread that had been in my stomach since the news report was growing deeper all the time. I didn't want to be here. On this bus. Going into the city. And I certainly didn't want to be surrounded by swarms of kids at school. Somehow that just didn't make me feel any safer.

But, thanks to the lack of the traffic on our side of the road, we got to school a full twenty minutes earlier then usual. A small group of teachers were waiting at the entrance, funnelling everyone towards the assembly area.

"C'mon kids, keep moving. Nice and quick now." Their tone of voice was urgent, but not panicked.

We filed obediently into the large, square courtyard, Everyone was notably nervous; younger kids teetering away in high excited voices, older students mumbling in much lower, uncertain whispers. I noticed that the amount of people present was around half of what it usually was. Obviously not everyone's parents thought it a good idea to just carry on with everyday routine.

When the flow of new arrivals began to dwindle, the teachers on the edge of the courtyard called for a hush and directed attention towards the front of the square. There was a small podium set up there with a microphone. The headmaster was waiting patiently behind it. When everyone was sufficiently silenced, he tapped the microphone and cleared his throat.

"Good morning, students," he announced.

"Gooood mooorrninng, Miiissstterrr Brink-ley," the entire assembly droned in the ridiculously slow and monotone manner all school children seemed to use.

"I know some of you may have watched the news this morning," the headmaster began, "and you might be wondering what all the disturbance and uncertainty is about. I'm not a hundred percent clear myself, but apparently there's some trouble in the city; a possible flu epidemic seems to be causing civil unrest and a great deal of trouble for the police. You may also be wondering where the rest of your friends and classmates are; particularly those from the western suburbs. I'd like to assure you that they are ok, and there is no need for anyone to travel there to offer aid. The authorities have everything under control."

The assembled students began to murmur and jostle each other, sensing the underlying tension in the adults around them.

"School will continue as always. You will focus on your classes and eat your lunches like normal, although I'd like to reinforce a new rule: outside activities are strictly forbidden today. Everything will be conducted inside, and for no reason will anyone be allowed to leave the school buildings, especially on their own, until it is time to leave and catch your buses. This is for... for..."

Headmaster Brinkley paused his speech. His face contorted into all manner of strange expressions; eyes rolling into the back of his head and muscles twitching erratically. He raised his hands to his mouth, and suddenly jerked violently forward.

"WAACHOO!!!!!"

The ear blasting sneeze echoed out of the speakers, making everyone cringe in a mixture of pain and disgust.

"My apologies," he sniffed, wiping his nose and forehead. Then I noticed for the first time how pale his skin was, how dark the rings under his eyes appeared to be. And also the bandage tied tightly around his right hand.

With that realisation, I suddenly became aware of those around me suffering the same aliments. Numerous kids were sniffing and blowing into tissues, their noses red from over use. Their skin was that sickly grey colour of people who don't get out in the sun, and seemed to hang loosely from their bones. A few older boys in my row even looked like they were going to pass out; eyelids fluttering and their bodies swaying. It made me uneasy. Or at least, more-so then I already was.

"This is for your own safety, so please: abide by the rules for today, and I'm sure everything will be ok. Also, if any of you feel sick or disorientated, you are to report to the nurse's office immediately. That will be all."

The headmaster switched his microphone off, and the surrounding teachers began to usher everyone to their respective classrooms. Students were certainly more spooked now then they had been before the speech, and those who were sniffing suddenly found themselves distanced from everyone else.

"Hey!" Someone grabbed my arm and gave it a tug. I stopped and looked back, seeing the now slightly frightened face of my sister. Mary-Sue stood a short distance behind her.

"Yeah?" I enquired.

"I... I think you were right. Something doesn't sound right about this. I want to ring Mum and Dad now. I want to go home." Lucy wasn't one for bursting into tears or getting scared over any little thing. She usually had to be pretty scared before she asked me for help. I put my arm around her and squeezed her tight.

"It's ok. So do I. But we're here now. There are adults to protect us. Everything will be ok; it's only six hours."

"Ok..." she sniffed. I gently nudged her towards Mary-Sue and gave a nod.

"Look after Sis, ok?"

"Sure, sure," Mary-Sue scoffed. She obviously didn't share our fearful sentiments. They waved me goodbye and I headed for my classroom. Even though I knew studying at a time like this was going to be near impossible.

-

Second period. Geography. I was busy gazing out the window, towards the western part of the city. Numerous smoke flumes rose into the air, and I swore I heard distant gun shots. Our teacher, Mr. Gigalos, was writing an endless stream of information about the Communisitc Society of North Korea and the reign of Kim Yung Il. No one seemed to be paying attention.

Suddenly a scream echoed down the hallway outside. Everyone froze in the seats, pens paused mid sentence. I looked at the guy sitting next to me; his chin quivered and he was staring at the door so intently his eyes were almost bulging. In fact, all eyes were on room entrance... or perhaps exit, depending on how you viewed it. Outside there was a clattering of footfalls as someone ran past, then it was quiet again.

Mr. Gigalos still had his arm raised, even though the chalk had fallen from his fingers. He slowly turned towards the class and pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

"Ok... I don't know what that was, but I'm sure it was nothing to worry about." He put his hands out, urging everyone to stay seated where they were. "Nobody move. I'll go and have a look."

Everyone watched as he went to the classroom door and put his hand on the handle. He pulled it open and stepped outside, closing it most of the way except for a small crack. Through this, we heard him take a few steps, then pause, looking around.

Another pair of footsteps came echoing up from the end of the hallway. They stopped too, and we held our breath. What was going on?

"What are you doing out of class?" Mr. Gigalos's voice asked. "Do you have a pass?"

The other pair of feet suddenly started running again, this time much faster then before.

"Hey, what did you do to your face? Are you o-"

-CRASH-

Mr. Gigalos came flying back into the room, smashing through the partially ajar door. He slid on his back, all the way to the bottom of his desk. We all stood up quickly, knocking our chairs out from under us. A girl screamed.

On top of our teachers chest was perched a child. A boy, probably no older then fifth grade. His face was buried in the adult's neck, and Mr. Gigalos was trying weakly to push his attacker off. I could see a pool of dark liquid forming around his head, and his mouth opened and closed in a gasping manner.

"What the...?" cried one of my classmates. I recognised him as Dennis Clarkmen, our class representative. "What are you doing? Get the hell off him!"

He ran forward and grabbed ahold of the child's collar. The boy instantly looked up and let out a snarl. Dennis recoiled; the boy's face was smeared in blood, a sizeable chunk of flesh hanging from his mouth. He looked like something out of a horror movie.

"Holy shi..!" Dennis shouted, just as the boy launched off our teacher's body and latched onto his fingers. The boys at the desks closest to them immediately ran to his aid, punching and struggling to hold the enraged child down.

I leaned over my desk and tried to see if Mr. Gigalos was ok. There was a gaping wound in his neck; the piece of flesh in the boy's mouth had once belonged there. Some of the girls cried out and ran over to help him. They applied clothes and tissues to the hole, trying to slow the flow of blood. It was clear that he wasn't moving.

"Oh my god... he's dead!" wept one of the girls. "He died! That boy killed him."

We all turned to look at the child that was now pinned to the floor by four teenage guys. Dennis was sitting on the floor nursing his fingers.

"You ok?" someone asked him.

"Yeah... yeah," he replied. "Hurts like _mad_ though. What the hell is wrong with that kid?"

We watched the boy thrash about on the floor, growling and snapping like some kind of wild animal.

"Whatta we do?"

"I don't know... should we knock him out?"

"Hey... hey!! Mr. Gigalos; he's alive!"

Everyone turned to look at the girl who'd cried out. She was standing over our teacher, looking into his face.

"His eyes are open! Look!"

She backed off him, and we watched as Mr. Gigalos slowly sat up. There was a confused look on his face, as if he'd forgotten where he was and saw everything around him for the first time.

"Mr. Gigalos? Are you ok?" the girl put her hands on his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. Our teacher turned his face towards her; it was completely blank. Then I saw his eyes. Blue, milky eyes. They'd been dark brown for as long as we'd known him.

"Quick, get away!" I yelled.

"What?" The girl looked my direction. "Why -"

Mr. Gigalos lunged forward with a growl, latching onto her ear. She screamed and tried to get away, but he grabbed her head and smashed it into the floor. Then he held her down as he bit into her neck.

Everything went insane. The remaining girls screamed and ran for the doorway. The boys holding down the child were so shocked that they released their grip, and he was up in a second, tearing off one of their biceps with his teeth. Mr. Gigalos grabbed the ankle of one of the girls that ran past him, and started to go to work on her as well. It was too much. I couldn't take it! I had to get out!!

I ran to the window and gave it a hard tug. It had been awhile since it was last opened, so the bottom was sticking to the frame. I turned to view the classroom again as I struggled with it; the first girl Mr. Gigalos had attacked was up now, helping him finish off the second. Dennis was lying against the wall, breathing shallowly, his open eyes staring at me.

"Dammit, c'mon!" I said through gritted teeth. The window finally gave with a jerk, and I slammed it up hard. "Quick, everyone, I've got the window..."

No one seemed to hear me. They were all screaming and fighting each other. I looked to Dennis to see if he was aware we could escape. He was still against the wall, but he was different now. He wasn't breathing anymore. And his eyes had gone a milky blue.

"Dennis...?" I croaked.

With a snarl he launched forward, pushing tables and chairs out of his way as he barrelled towards me.

"Shit!!" I dived through the window, sliding down the red tiled roof. I reached out, trying to slow my descent; our classroom was on the first storey! It was quite a drop to the ground below. As the edge grew perilously closer, I raised my legs and prepared for impact.

"AHHHHH-"

-THUMP-

I sat up and spat some leaves out of my mouth. A garden. Thank god the Flower Arrangement Club had demanded they be able to grow their own materials. I climbed out of the garden bed and looked at the courtyard in front of me.

It was mayhem. Teachers were guiding groups of youngsters towards the school gates. On the far side of the square it was quite the opposite, with the teacher chasing the students, his clawing hands outstretched. Random huddles of friends ran screaming past, scared and disorientated. Someone bumped into me, knocking me to the ground.

"Oh my god, help, please! We've got to stop them!"

"What?" I said groggily.

It was a girl dressed in a cheerleader's uniform. She pulled me up and pointed towards the gym.

"They just attacked us! For no reason! We've got to stop them!"

I followed her finger and saw what she was so distressed about; the entire football team was chasing a group of cheerleaders, their faces rife with blood and bile. The girls were terrified, running in all directions, anywhere to escape.

"Please! Please!" she cried, tugging my arm. Then something dripped on her face. She put a hand up to wipe it off. "Wha..?"

It was blood. We looked up, just in time to see the snarling face of Dennis looking over the roof. The girl didn't even have time to scream as he crawled off, landing on top of her with a heavy thud. He'd taken off her nose before I had time to react, and her cheek and eye were gone seconds later.

There was nothing I could do. I had to get away, or die myself. I turned and started running, but to where? My first thought was to the entrance, along with everyone else. But what from there? Out onto the street, running endlessly? It didn't seem like a good idea.

The other choice was more risky, but had a higher chance of escape should my luck hold out. I could go to the bus station at the back of the school. Maybe some buses would be there? Surely one of the teachers had called them?

I continued to run down the concrete pathways, past the classrooms and dodging other kids heading for the entrance gates. Twice I had to jump to avoid a twitching body, flailing on the ground. I was just nearing the station when two bodies flew out of a nearby door and smacked into me. We fell to the concrete in a tangle of limbs.

"Ahhh! Get off me! Get off me!" A familiar voice screamed. I froze in surprise, then grabbed the face of one of the people who'd hit me.

"... Lucy?"

My sister stared at me, her blue eyes teary. They weren't milky blue, they were crystal. She hadn't been attacked. She was alive!

"Bro!!" she screamed, throwing her arms around me. "I thought you were dead."

She bawled freely into my chest, sobbing and choking. I hugged her tightly, feeling nothing but total relief. There were scratch marks on her arms, and dark handprints forming around her neck.

"I hate to break up the family reunion, but we're in some serious fucking trouble here." Mary-Sue scowled at me, tugging at Lucy's school uniform. There were bruises on her arms and neck too, and one piggy tale had been ripped off her head.

"She's right," I said quickly. "We have to get to the buses."

I helped Lucy up, and we continued to run through the school. There weren't many people back this far. How many had made it out of the classrooms?

As we rounded the last corner, I could see the bus station, and my heart almost jumped into my throat. There was a bus! A bus, parked right in front of the pick up point, as if it'd been there all morning.

"Yes!!" Lucy and I yelled simultaneously. We continued to run, and I tried to see inside the bus. Were other people inside? Did anyone at all think to come back here? As we drew closer, I could see it was completely empty apart from the driver. He was looking through the closed door, panic on his face.

"Why does _he_ look so scared?" Lucy gasped. The run was wearing her out.

"I would tell you not to look behind us," Mary-Sue breathed, "but I know you'll do it anyway."

She was right. Lucy and I looked over our shoulders, and almost immediately wished we hadn't. A hoard of perhaps fifty of our former classmates and teachers were not far behind, their milky eyes wide with rage, their bloody teeth gnashing with hunger.

"Jesus _Christ_!" I screamed, finding energy I never knew I had. Lucy and Mary-Sue somehow managed to keep up, and together we ran for our lives towards our only hope of escape.


	2. Part 2

_The Farmhouse_

"ARRHH!!!!"

Lucy's scream made me sit bolt upright on the collapsed couch, instantly awake. From his spot under the window, resting against the wall, Steve did the same.

I looked beside me. Lucy was no longer curled up on the couch. She wasn't even in the same room as us. A door beside the ancient TV was open, and I could hear panicked breathing from the dark room beyond.

"Lucy!" I cried, grabbing the iron bar at my side and launching off the couch. Steve followed close behind as we ran into the room, expecting the worst. We stopped a few meters inside; Lucy was up against the far wall, looking pale and terrified. In the centre of the room, lying on a big wooden table, was a body. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that the rest of the room was completely empty. Deep scratches in the floor suggested there'd been more furniture in there until recently.

"Are you ok?" Steve asked, moving to comfort my frightened sister. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the corpse.

"I.. I... I was just looking for a bathroom..." she managed to choke between breaths. "It was too dark to see at first and... and I touched his face. I thought he was going to bite me."

"It's alright," I said softly, trying to sooth her nerves. I walked over to the body, iron bar outstretched, and gave it a poke. Nothing happened. The body was stiff with rigor mortis. "I think he's well and truly dead."

Steve looked around the room and spotted a blind covering a nearby window. He gave the bottom a tug, and when the material failed to rise back up into the roller, he pulled on it violently. The entire thing came down, filling the air with dust, but revealing the dirty glass behind. The room was suddenly awash in rusty orange light, and we had a clearer view of the body on the table.

"Wow," Lucy said softly, less fearful now she could see. We surrounded the tabletop, looking down on the unmoving man. He was old; perhaps in his seventies or eighties, though he still retained a fair amount of grey hair. His jeans may have been blue once, but now they were riddled with holes and stained brown from years of farm work. He even wore a red-chequered shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; just like the farmers you see in the movies. His arms themselves had been placed carefully over his chest, hands clasped together in a relaxed, peaceful manner.

"How'd he get here?" I wondered aloud. Someone had obviously gone to a great deal of effort to set him up this way. I leaned in for a closer look, but backed off sharply when I saw the bite marks on his forearms and hands. "And how come he's not one of them?"

Steve was studying the man's face, prodding something just on the hair line.

"Look at this," he said, waving us over. I was still feeling cautious, but I edged close enough to see what he was pointing too.

"What is it?" Lucy asked, puzzled.

"Stiches. There's a ring of stitches going all around his head."

"Why?"

"I think..." Steve paused for a second, then rapped his knuckles against the dead man's forehead. There was a hollow knocking sound. "Yup, I was right. They've opened his skull and removed the brain."

"No way!" I said, shocked. "How? Why? If he'd been bitten, then they'd probably have to do it while he was still..."

Steve nodded. He moved further down the man's body and began to undo the buttons on the red-chequered shirt. Opening it revealed an aged, grey haired chest. There was a long cut, running from the breastbone to the stomach, which had been painstakingly stitched back together as well.

"They've removed his organs too," Steve said. "I guess they didn't want to take any chances."

"Who would do this?" Lucy asked, looking both confused and slightly repulsed.

"My guess? Someone who loved this man very, very much. Someone who didn't want to see him rise from the serenity of death to wreak havoc on the living. Most likely his family."

I gulped. I doubted I'd be able to do that to my parents. But if it came to choosing between them having a peaceful death, or returning as one of _them..._ I'd certainly try my hardest to achieve the former.

"Wow... that's almost... sweet," Lucy said softly.

We all went silent, thinking about our families for the first time in days. I hoped Mum and Dad were safe; they'd had to go to France on a business trip, and as far as I knew this crisis hadn't gotten overseas. Other then my classmates, no one truly close to me or Lucy had died yet. The same couldn't be said for Steve...

I looked over at him, studying his face. It was blank, stony in its complexion. But I could see he was holding it back. He was thinking of his wife, and those last terrifying moments they'd shared. I would have forgiven him if he'd simply burst into tears, but I think the time for that was over now.

Steve buttoned up the man's shirt again and clasped the frail, dead hands together as before.

"I hope his family didn't meet the same end," he said. He turned, and made for the doorway.

"I wonder if Mary-Sue is ok?" Lucy said abruptly. I looked up at her in surprise, and made a clearly displeased face.

"Who cares," I said flatly, turning to follow Steve. "I don't give a crap about that bitch."

"Hey!" Lucy cried, following us back into the lounge room. "That's not nice. She was our friend."

"She was _your_ friend. My friends would never point a gun at us and then leave us for dead."

"She was just scared! I honestly don't blame her. We'd just seen half our class die; it's only normal she'd want to make sure her parents were alright. You'd do the same thing if ours were here... right?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah. I guess."

Lucy went over to the collapsed couch again and hopped onto it lightly.

"I just hope she found them," she said quietly.

I wanted to say more about our ex-schoolmate, but the last thing any of us needed at the moment was to fight or argue. We simply didn't have the energy to waste. I forced my lips together and managed a grim smile.

"Yeah. I'm sure she found them. I'm sure they're fine..."

_3 Days Earlier - Midday_

"Go! GO!!" I yelled at the bus driver, trying to shake him from his stupor.

"But... but the other kids!!" he choked. He'd managed to open the doors for us to get in, and close them behind, but now he could only stare. Paralysed. Completely horrified by the snarling hoard, tearing across the concrete bus station towards us.

"Trust me," I said, watching as the first few kids reached the bus doors and started banging furiously on then. "You don't want to let them in."

It was terrifying. They just kept throwing themselves at the bus walls and glass, smearing the blood from their hands and mouths in long streaks. Their milky, unblinking eyes stared at us, lusting for flesh. At the back of the bus, my sister and her friend screamed as a teacher cracked the window nearest to them with his forehead.

"For fucks sake, _go!_" Mary-Sue screamed. It seemed to snap the driver out of it at last, and he jammed the bus into gear. I just had time to see the bloodied, gnarled face of Mike Hicks, Captain of the Basketball Team, before he disappeared under the front of the bus. We felt the back wheels jump as his body rolled underneath.

"Jesus Christ... Jesus Christ," the driver panted. "I just ran over a kid... I just killed someone."

"It's ok," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "He was already dead."

I worked my way up the bus to where my sister and Mary-Sue now huddled, clutched in each others arms. Both were spattered with blood and covered in bruises. I still couldn't believe they'd made it out; two fifteen year old girls managing to fight off those things our classmates had become? I was beyond admiration.

"It... it happened so fast!" Lucy whimpered. "I killed Katie! I _stabbed_ her in the eye! With a pen. She didn't even make a noise... just... fell off me."

Being only a small girl - a whole foot shorter then myself and a lot thinner - I couldn't help but be amazed by her. The large, hand shaped bruises on her neck and arms were already darkening. It must have been some fight.

"You didn't kill anyone," I said, trying to console her. "She was one of them. If you hadn't stopped her, she would have killed you instead."

"Ricky tried to bite me! He tried to bite my fucking _throat!_" Mary-Sue sobbed. "I had a crush on him for so long too..."

Mary-Sue had always come across as being tough, but I never knew for sure if that was just the 'black chick from the ghetto' routine or her real personality. Now she sat with my sister; bloodied claw marks trailing her face and wrists, school uniform hanging in tatters. The one missing piggy tail left her looking like some lost and forgotten Raggedy Anne doll. Her flushed cheeks emphasised the image.

"It's alright. We made it. They're behind us now."

"But what about out there... out _here_?" Lucy said with fear in her eyes. "There might be more!"

We all held onto the seats as the bus took a hard turn so fast it felt like we were going to tip over. The driver must have been going at least ninety k's in streets designed for forty. If those things outside didn't kill us, his crazy driving would.

I pressed my face to the glass and stared outside.

"I don't see anything. Perhaps everyone else managed to get away?"

As I said that, the bus began to slow down and we all looked to the front window. We were coming to an intersection, where it looked like there'd been a massive traffic accident. On the edges of the wreckage, we could see the tell-tale flashing lights of some emergency vehicles.

"Hey look! Police!" Lucy cried excitedly. Her smile began to fade as we drew closer. "What... what are they doing?!"

There was small group of officers and paramedics, leaning into the cars or crouched over people lying on the road. Perhaps originally they'd come to help the crash victims, but they certainly had no intentions of that now. Now, they were busy fighting over the remains.

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus." We heard the bus driver chanting his panicked mantra again. He hit the accelerator and weaved his way through the wrecks, throwing us from one side of the bus to the other. Outside, some of the police looked up and snarled. One or two even gave chase, but they slowed down after awhile. They seemed more content with the meals they'd already caught.

"Damn," I whispered. "It's all gone to hell."

The devastation was already pretty widespread if only the western suburbs had been affected this morning. I gathered, from roads the bus drive had taken so far, he was going as far east as he could. Things weren't looking any more promising here, however.

Even though the streets were nearly deserted, there was still plenty to see. The endless houses with their front doors wide open; some smashed from their hinges, others just left that way in haste. Cars lay abandoned on the roadside, full of worldly goods but devoid of any owners. A small group of dogs, still dragging their leashes, ran howling past us. If there'd been some kind of main event, we may have already missed it. This was only the aftermath. I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or petrified.

"There's B-Mart!" Mary-Sue cried, pointing to a large supermarket building we all recognised. Everyone used to do their family shopping there. Now, all its front windows had been smashed in and trolleys lay scattered across the car park. Inside we could just make out the bare shelves and debris laden aisles. I only caught a glimpse, but I'm sure I saw a small crowd around the meat and deli section.

"What are we going to do?" Lucy cried, tugging at my sleeve. "Did you tell the bus driver to take us home?"

"No," I shook my head. I hadn't even thought about that. "Why would we want to go there? Mum and Dad are in France; there's no reason to go back. The driver's probably just trying to get out of town."

"But... but I want to get my things!"

"Forget it. I said it's too dangerous."

"Fuck that," Mary-Sue shouted, standing up suddenly. "_My_ folks are here. We have to go get them! I'm can't lose my family as well my friends."

"Fine!" I yelled back at her. I was in no mood for her teenage-girl demands. "Then go! I'm sure the bus driver will slow down long enough for you to jump out. Just don't try to drag me and Lucy along with you."

"Oh, I won't," she replied, her voice taking on a sinister quality. Then she reached under her skirt and pulled out something I never expected a fifteen year old to have: a goddamn handgun.

"Holy crap!" Lucy cried, jumping out of the seat and clambering to my side. "Mary-Sue... where'd you get that? What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting my folks... I have too..." she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking wildly, making the empty blackness of the barrel all the more threatening.

"Mary-Sue, we're your friends! Put it down!"

"Shut up!" she screamed, thrusting the weapon towards me. The cold, hard metal was only inches from my nose. "Just shut up. I know what I'm doing."

She waved the gun towards the front of the bus.

"Go. Now!"

I put my hands up, keeping Lucy protected behind me. We carefully backed our way down between he seats, trying to remain steady as the bus bounced and swerved. The driver was so focused on the road he hadn't even noticed what was going on behind him.

"Even if you find them, you won't have enough bullets to protect them from those things out there."

"I don't _care!" _she replied through gritted teeth. "Keep walking."

We finally reached the front of the bus; the steps down to the door preventing us from going any further. Mary-Sue grabbed the driver's collar and stuck the gun against his cheek.

"Stop the bus!" she screamed.

The driver looked up at her briefly, and then, amazingly, shook his head.

"No. Are you insane?! We have to get out of here!"

"I said _stop the fucking bus!" _Mary-Sue pointed the gun above his head and fired, blowing apart the revision mirror. The driver hit the brake so hard we were almost thrown through the windshield.

"You're crazy! Get off my bus!"

"Shut up!" she shouted. "Just open the damn door."

He hit the button, and the doors slid open with a hiss. Mary-Sue pointed the gun back at us.

"Please. Get off. I don't want to hurt you. Please! I just have to know if my family is ok. I'll do it alone. But you have to get off here."

"Mary-Sue... no..." Lucy said though teary sobs. I moved backwards, forcing her down the stairs until we finally stepped out on the tarmac. Our schoolmate smiled sadly, then hit the button, closing the bus doors. I could only stare after her in disbelief.

"Turn us around!" she yelled, pointing the gun at the driver's temple. "Either you take me back, or I kill you and drive there myself. Your choice."

For a second I thought the driver was going to continue his defiance. Instead, he nodded slowly and took hold of the gears. Lucy and I watched the bus do a slow U-Turn, bumping over the midsection before getting onto the other side of the road and heading back the way we'd just come. Back to Mary-Sue's home. Back to the heart of the mayhem. Lucy was still clutching my arm, crying silently.

"It's ok... we'll be ok..." I tried to convince myself as well as her. Once the bus had disappeared from sight, and the sound of its engine faded away, we were truly all alone. The streets and buildings around us were as quiet as the grave. But there was no telling how long that would last. Great clouds of black smoke still rose in the distance, and every now and again there was a burst of gunfire somewhere close by.

"What... what'll we do?" Lucy sobbed.

"We have to get out of the city," I replied grimly. "That's about all we can do."

--

It was getting dark. I frowned, watching the sky above the rooflines turning from a rusty orange to a crimson red. After hours of running and hiding we still seemed no closer to the cities outskirts. Worst of all, I had completely lost my sense of direction. Without any road signs to give hints, I had no idea if we were headed further from the destruction or back to its centre.

"The suns going down..." Lucy said softly. She'd stopped crying hours ago, and now seemed to have gone into a state of semi-shock. I wasn't sure if it was the horror of seeing her classmates die, or the betrayal of her best friend, but either way I could tell she was having trouble processing it all. Often when I looked at her face, she had a far away, disconnected expression, as if she somehow believed this was all a dream.

"It's ok," I said. "We'll find a house to stay in for the night. I don't think anyone's left in this neighbourhood. We shouldn't have any problems."

I peeked over the railing fence, scanning the street beyond for any signs of movement. We'd been crouched behind some bushes in an unknown front yard for nearly an hour, after we spotted a small group of people further up the road. Lucy had desperately wanted to go and meet them; she seemed to crave the security an adult presence offered. But I wasn't as keen.

The group wasn't doing anything. Just standing in the middle of the street, looking around them. Any normal person with a sense of self preservation would be hiding, not out in the open. When one of them turned our way, I grabbed Lucy and dragged her behind the fence, where we'd waited until they'd moved off further up the street. Even then, I'd insisted we wait another thirty minutes, just to be sure.

"Can we go yet?" Lucy said weakly. "I'm starving."

"Yeah," I replied, feeling a pang of hunger in my own stomach. "I think it's safe now. We'll go as far as we can while it's still light enough to see. Hopefully we can find a house with a full fridge."

She took hold of my arm and we edged our way back onto the sidewalk.

"Remember, stay low, and if you see anything moving at all, tell me," I whispered. She nodded; she knew the drill. "Go!"

We ran along the street in a half-crouched manner, eyes darting towards every house, every darkened window. We paused behind an abandoned car, just long enough to catch our breath, then ran again. It'd been like this from the moment Mary-Sue had left us to fend for ourselves, and we found it more mentally draining then we did physically.

As we passed the place where we'd seen the small group of people, I pointed to the tarmac. Lucy looked obediently, then put a hand over her mouth. There were remains there that should have been inside a person, not out, and a large dark stain to match.

"Glad we didn't go to meet them now?" I asked. She nodded. It wasn't the worst we'd seen today, but still did nothing to calm our nerves.

The sun was setting faster then I expected. We had to find shelter soon, or it would mean real trouble. I didn't fancy running in the dark. Ahead, I could see a house that bore surprising resemblance to our own home. If anything I knew it would help make Lucy feel more comfortable, so I continued to cautiously lead us that direction.

"Were almost there," I said between heavy breaths. "God I hope they have food."

"I'd settle for running water. I really need a ba-"

A loud yell from the house adjacent to us brought our run to a grinding halt. I immediately ducked behind the front gate, pulling Lucy down with me.

"What was that?" she whispered, fear in her eyes. "Did something see us?"

Another yell, followed by what sounded like glass breaking made us cringe.

"I don't know. Sounds more like a fight," I answered. "Something we don't want to be part of."

There were a series of heavy thuds, followed by more yelling and some angry growls. It sounded brutal.

"A fight? That means somebody's still alive! We have to go save them!" The hope on Lucy's face made me feel guilty. How could I tell her there was no chance of us being able to help? Even if we could kill the attacker, we'd only have to deal with the victim if they'd been bitten. I wasn't ready for that yet.

"It's too dangerous," I said, shaking my head. "Not worth risking our own lives over."

"But they could help us! They might know the way out of the city. I know you're lost; I can see you trying to work things out in your head every time we come to an intersection."

I scowled. Ok, so maybe she wasn't as out of it as I first thought.

"C'mon! Please! We have to try."

I sighed. She was right. The more people with us, the more likely we were to survive. Besides, I didn't think I could sit there and listen to someone die without it plaguing my conscience later on.

"Fine," I said. I got up and looked around for a weapon. Nothing stood out. I ripped a paling off the picket gate and gave it a swing, testing it. Well, it was slow but it worked. Exactly how well would remain to be seen, as we ran up the path leading to the house.

_"Help! No please, get off!"_

Closer to the doorway, we could here the shouts as distinct words. It was a man. He sounded more then a little desperate.

"Alright," I said, my hand inches from the door handle. "This could get really bad. If the guy's been bitten, we just run for it, ok? It's not worth the risk."

Lucy nodded. She looked scared, but determined, and it seemed some life had returned to her now she'd found a purpose. I put my hand on the handle, and pushed with all my strength. The door flew open, hitting the wall with a crash.

Inside we could hear thuds and snarls, and what sounded like someone sobbing. A broken vase lay in the hallway, and there were bloodied handprints on the walls. I saw the colour in Lucy's face drain. I guessed she was having second thoughts now. Another shout made us jump: the fight seemed to be in the next room. I crept forward, wood paling raised, and peeked through the doorway.

A man lay on the ground, and on top of him was a woman. She was growling and snapping, trying to bring her face down towards his, but he had his hands on her shoulders, holding her at bay. He turned his terrified face towards us, probably half expecting me to be one of them. I entered the room and brandished my wooden plank to show otherwise.

"Help!" he yelled at me. There were tears streaming down his face. "Get her off! _Do_ something!"

The woman's flailing arms managed to get a grip around his throat, and he struggled to shake her off. I ground my teeth. No going back now. I ran forward and smashed the paling over the woman's head, feeling the wood disintegrate instantly in my fingers. There was a sickening thud, and the woman seemed to release her grip on the man's throat. I stood over her, breathing heavily. Had it been enough? Was she dead again?

Her face whipped towards me, her milky blue eyes glaring. She bared her teeth and let out a hiss.

"Bro, look out!" Lucy screamed, running towards me. The woman launched off the man, clawed hands raking the air. I tried to move backwards, but tripped, and she was on me in an instant. I barely had enough time to see her bloodied mouth open, preparing to bite down on my thigh, before her whole face suddenly disappeared from view.

I sat up. The man had hold of her ankle, and was pulling her towards him. The snarling woman lashed out with her other leg, trying to shake him off, but at the same time trying to crawl her way back to me. I guess I pissed her off.

"The baseball bat!" the man cried. "Get it out, quick!"

I looked around me, searching for the weapon lying on the floor but seeing nothing. Lucy cried out as she spotted it; a silver aluminium one, sitting inside a glass container on a nearby cabinet. There were signatures all over it.

"Hurry!" the man shouted again.

Lucy ran over and picked up the container. She raised it to shoulder level - about all she could manage - and then thew it to the floor. The glass shattered instantly, and I grabbed the bat as it rolled out and across the carpet.

The man had the woman pinned on her stomach now, one knee on her back and the other on her left arm. I ran over and raised the bat high, aiming for her head.

"No, give it to me," he said, reaching out an arm. I paused, unsure of why he'd make such a request, then quickly handed the bat over.

Beneath his knees, the woman clawed at the carpet, trying to turn her head far enough to reach him. The man stared down at her and wiped the tears from his face.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed. He raised the bat and brought it down on the back of her head. He did this once, twice, and then a third time for good measure. Her body twitched with each blow, going limp after the final impact. Lucy turned her face away, staring at the wall. I wished she hadn't seen it.

"Are... are you ok?" I asked the man. "Did she bite you?"

"No," he replied sadly. "Nothing hurt. Nothing but my heart."

"Your heart? Do you need medication for it or something?" Lucy asked, her face still towards the wall.

"No, I didn't mean physically hurt," he replied. He wiped the bat on the carpet and then stood up. "That was my wife."

"Oh..." I didn't know what else to say. What could you say? Nothing that was going to make it better, so why say anything at all? Lucy finally turned to look at us again, her own eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm... so sorry," she cried. Then she ran towards the man we'd only known for two minutes and hugged him. It was hard and long, the kind she only reserved for our father when he finally got back from months of being away. I was a surprised, but actually a little relieved that the horrors of the day hadn't killed her emotions completely.

The man put one arm around her and hugged her too. Silent tears continued to flow. He stared down at his wife, the back of her head bloodied and riddled with pieces of bone. Her face was buried in the carpet. Perhaps for the best.

"What happened?" I asked, looking at her arms and legs and seeing no signs of bites.

"I don't know," he replied. He pried Lucy from around his stomach and pushed her gently towards me. "We were walking home from the shops today, when this guy collapsed in front of us. He just fell to the sidewalk, twitching and kicking. My wife ran to help him, and when she tried to put something in his mouth to stop him biting his tongue, he vomited a torrent of blood onto her. All over her face and clothes. We left him and I brought her home... I didn't think any had got in her mouth but I guess... the TV said it only took a little for..."

He trailed off, sniffing and wiping his face.

"Man... I'm so sorry," I said, bowing my head respectfully. "I can only imagine how you feel."

"It's alright. She's at peace now. That's something."

"We're trying to get out of the city. We've been running all day but... but I have no idea where we're going. Can you help us?"

The man cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I know where to go. My wife and I were just getting ready to leave before she... turned. We can go there in the morning."

"Thank you!" Lucy cried. "Thank you so much."

"It's the least I can do," he said. He extended a hand towards me. "It's Steve, by the way. Thanks for saving my life."


	3. Conclusion

_The Farmhouse_

"I think we've got trouble," Steve said. He was looking out the window, towards the plane wreckage across the field.

"What?" I asked, sitting up. "Are they coming?"

"I don't know. I can't see any, but the corn... the corn is... moving."

I got up and went to his side. Pushing my face against the glass, I squinted, studying the corn. Sure enough, stalk by stalk, paths were being cut through the field towards us, coming from the plane. The corn was too tall to see who was making them, but from our heightened position they were plain to see.

"Is it them?" I said, feeling the desire to flee returning to the pit of my stomach.

"I'd say so. They're moving to slow to be normal people. They always move slow... until they see food."

I nodded. Either way, it wasn't worth the chance. It was time to leave.

"Lucy, get up. We're going."

"Huh?" she said groggily from her resting place on the couch. "Why?"

"Nevermind. Just hurry up and get ready."

Steve grabbed the bag of canned food we'd salvaged from the kitchen while Lucy and I retrieved our shoes. I was angry that we'd been disturbed after such a short time, but it couldn't be helped.

"I was just getting used to that couch too," Lucy grumbled. She moved to the back door and put her hand on the handle.

"No!" Steve and I cried simultaneously. "Not that way."

"But... the mountain's this way?" she said, confused.

"We're going out the front instead," Steve replied, gently pulling her by the arm. We ran back through lounge room and into the small hallway that lead to the front of the house. We'd looked in there before, but not opened the door. We were unsure of waited outside.

"Shit, I forgot my bar," I said, smacking my forehead.

"Well, hurry back and grab it," Steve replied. "We'll meet you outside."

I quickly ducked back into the lounge room, and looked for my makeshift weapon. Where the hell had it gone? I finally spotted it, sticking out from behind the pillows of the collapsed couch. Just as my hand grasped the cold metal, I heard Lucy's surprised scream.

"Oh god, what now?" I groaned. I bolted back to the hallway, iron bar brandished and ready to come to my sister's aid.

Lucy was hiding behind Steve, but both looked fine. The front door was wide open, and beyond that a veranda. I couldn't see anything worth screaming about.

"What is it?" I hissed, running to their side. Lucy pointed a shaking finger outside, towards the end of the veranda.

Standing at the top of some stairs leading to the ground below, were two people. They were dressed in black flowing robes, complete with hoods and long sleeves. They're faces were turned towards us, and I let out a gasp when I saw them. It was a young man and a woman, perhaps only a few years older then me, and their features looked very familiar. We'd seen them only a short while ago, on the dead man lying his table inside. But that wasn't what shocked me. It was their mouths. Their lips had been sewn together with thick, black twine.

"Who are they?" Lucy whimpered. "And what are those things they're holding?"

"It's called a scythe," Steve replied. "Used for cutting corn in long, sweeping motions."

I stared at massive weapons both people held in their hands. The blades were easily as long as my torso, and could cut through it with ease, I knew. The two hadn't moved yet, just kept standing there, staring at the intruders in their house. Their sad eyes pierced us. I could see no hope on their faces.

"I think they're the old man's kids," I said. "Brother and sister. But why are they dressed like that? Why'd they sew their mouths together?"

"Don't you get it?" Steve said. "Haven't you seen that image before? It's the Grim Reaper. They're dressed like death."

"Huh...?" I said, completely confused.

"People deal with grief in different ways. Some give up and die. Some cry and get over it. These two... I think they've resolved to fight till the end. And what better way to fight the dead then to become Death itself?"

"Oohh," I said, seeing the twisted but interesting logic behind it. "And their mouths?"

Steve shrugged.

"We can't really ask them... but I think it'd have something to do with not wanting to scream."

"Well, that's all great," I said. "I'm glad someone's making a stand. But does that mean they're going to fight us too, or can we pass?"

"I don't think that matters anymore," Lucy said, pointing past the veranda to the road beyond.

"Oh... damn it," I sighed. An endless sea of bodies was coming our way; bloodied city dwellers on a mass exodus for fresh food. Their frightening run had become a determined shuffle, at least until they saw something to chase. Their heads and arms swung back and forth as they scanned the land around them for prey.

Could we ever escape them? Did they have the innate ability to sense the living or did we just always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Their milky, unblinking eyes revealed no answer, just the desire for the same thing they always wanted. Us.

"Jesus," Steve said. "We better find another way. Once they see us, there'll be no running from that hoard."

"What about them?" Lucy asked, nodding towards the Grim Farmers. "We can't just leave them."

The two seemed to hear us, and in response, the woman looked to her brother, and then turned to block the stairs entrance. They weren't going anywhere. I didn't know if they were giving us a chance to get away, or had just resolved to die defending their home and the corpse of their father. There was no way for us to help them now.

"Come on. Out the back. We'll just have to risk it," Steve said. We left the veranda, the siblings and the fast approaching hoard behind, returning to lounge room once again. Steve immediately ran to the window and looked out.

"Shit! They're already here!"

I ran beside him and watched as body after body stumbled out of the field and headed towards the farmhouse. Two had already reached the stairs, and were trying awkwardly to climb them.

"What the hell did we do now?!" I cried, unable to get the panic out of my voice. Steve gripped his bat tighter. Perhaps seeing the two farmers had stirred the desire to fight in him as well. To get revenge for the wife and future they'd taken from him.

"We can't," I said firmly, putting my hand on the bat and forcing it back to his side. "Even if you can fight the ones from the plane, I doubt those two can hold the front stairs for long. We'll get swarmed from both sides. I'm not risking Lucy's life so you can get a small piece of revenge."

Steve's muscles tensed for a few seconds longer, then he relaxed.

"You're right. I'm sorry. My personal vendettas can wait for another day." He left the window and went to door on the other side of the room. "Quick, in here."

There were loud bangs on the kitchen door as we followed Steve into the next room. Out the front, a hefty 'thwack' sound, followed by some snarls and gurgles. The hoard must have reached the house already.

"Why are we in here?" Lucy asked in a high voice, looking around at what was clearly a bedroom. "There's no doors! We can't get out!"

Steve went to the window and slammed it up.

"Oh shit!" he said. "Security bars. I didn't see those. We can't get through them."

"Oh great! Fucking fantastic!" I shouted. "Now what do we do?"

The banging on the kitchen door was getting more violent, and the enraged growls from the hoard growing louder. There was no telling how much longer the farmers could hold them off.

"C'mon... c'mon," Steve said through gritted teeth. He looked about desperately, taking a few steps around the room. Then he froze. He stared down at the floor and stomped on it a few times.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled. "That's not helping."

"It's wood," he replied, bending down to knock on it with his hand. "Old wood too."

I gazed at him in awe, suddenly feeling guilty about doubting his abilities. We really would be dead so many times by now if it hadn't been for him.

"You're a goddamn genius," I said, finding I could muster a smile even in a situation like this. Steve raised his bat and slammed it into the floor. The wood dented, but didn't break.

"Harder!" Lucy encouraged. "Hit it again!"

Steve pounded the floor again and again, each blow splintering more of the aged wood. Outside, I heard a high, feminine voice cry out, and cringed. Even with her mouth sewn shut, the woman had somehow managed to scream.

A floorboard suddenly shattered, falling into the darkness beneath the house. Steve immediately began to pry up more planks, trying to make a hole big enough for us to slip through.

"That's done it!" he cried triumphantly. "Quick; everyone through."

I sat on the edge of the hole first, and then jumped through. My landing sent up a cloud of dust that had probably been gathering there since the house was built.

"You next," I heard Steve say, and a second later Lucy jumped down beside me. From inside the house, there was a crash as the kitchen door finally gave way, and a mass of footsteps filled the house.

"Oh crap!" Steve jumped down the hole and landed heavily beside us. "Go, go!"

Keeping our bodies low so as to not bash our skulls against the wood above, we ran from under the house and burst back out into the daylight. There was no one there to greet us, just another field of corn and some rusted farm machinery. It was an unbelievable and possibly brief blessing.

"Get into the field, hurry!" Steve urged, pushing us towards the wall of corn stalks.

We did so, though what lay beyond was anyone's guess. Would the military base still be there? Would our luck hold out for much longer? At the moment the future didn't matter. Right now we had to survive. I ran for my life. I ran for my sister's life. For those who still lived and for all those who had died. Whether it be our school mates, our best friends or our parents, there was always reason to survive. We had to make it. We had to try.

We left the farmhouse far behind.


End file.
